


Deliver To Me, Mi Amor

by sauza



Series: Red Dead Redemption [2]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Father!Javier Escuella x Mother!Reader, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Javier Escuella x Wife!Reader, Post-Video Game: Red Dead Redemption 2 (2018), RDR2, Red Dead Redemption 2 Spoilers, Video Game: Red Dead Redemption (2010), Video Game: Red Dead Redemption 2 (2018), banging_banshee, javier escuella - Freeform, javier escuella x reader - Freeform, rdr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22426405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sauza/pseuds/sauza
Summary: John Marston finally captures Javier Escuella, a past friend, a man he even considered a brother. Though with the days of robbing stagecoaches and trains over, there is no other reason to keep the traitor alive... well, no reason other than you. Both Javier’s lover before being separated due to the crumbling chaos of the gang's violent day of departure, but also the mother to his two children that he has not even the slightest knowledge of.
Relationships: Javier Escuella & Reader, Javier Escuella & You, Javier Escuella/Reader, Javier Escuella/You
Series: Red Dead Redemption [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1645261
Comments: 4
Kudos: 112





	Deliver To Me, Mi Amor

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings:  
> \- Sad.  
> \- Slight Angst.  
> \- Major RDR2 spoilers.  
> \- Mentions of events in RDR2, takes place in the time period of RDR1.  
> \- Papa Javier who does not know he is a papa.  
> \- Happy Ending. (:
> 
> D/N - Daughter's Name.  
> S/N - Son's Name.

God knows that if you were to not be alive, if John Marston had not stumbled upon you… oh, God knows Javier Escuella would be as good as another corpse in the ground.

Sometimes he curses himself in the mirror, running his calloused fingers over the deep scarring across his face while scolding himself for being so soft. For becoming soft. Maybe if you were not so sweet to him in the past, if you had been just as demeaning as Miss Grimshaw, this would not be such a problem. The entire ride to, from, around, and upside down throughout Mexico to find Mr. Escuella, John swore he would kill him, he would get this hellish curse just blow over so he can have his peace again. Have his family and nothing more or else.

But whenever he imagined Javier with a bullet between the eyes or a noose around his neck, you came to his mind. Your body collapsed on the ground and your hands over your face as you sobbed so loud, it was like a screech-ish song in the wind. The thought of hurting you more than you have been hurting all these years pains him, and he cannot bring himself to cause you any more pain.

The day he stumbled upon you was a few days after he was notified of Javier being spot somewhere he can no longer remember, but he remembers the adrenaline and excitement that had been thumping within his veins had so quickly diminished when he saw you. The two identical children holding baskets of provisions as they sauntered alongside you. For a moment, he truly believed you had run off and found yourself a man who will help you forget the heartache of that day you lost your one true love… but when he circled around to get a better look at you, as well as the two children. He knew without you having to tell him.

The shimmering diamond ring around your left finger, he recognized it. It was something Javier stole for you, the same ring he so graciously proposed to you just a few months prior to the disbanding of the van der Linde gang. John can still remember how happy you looked, the night you two held an unofficial wedding, clad in a dress you made yourself and just dancing with Javier all night. Neither of you cared for conversation or alcohol, you both just danced and danced until your feet hurt before sitting down to indulge yourselves in this new chapter of life.

You never moved on.

Then who’s kids were those?

As far as John can remember, you never were pregnant. Though, those two children, twins, held the sharp characteristics of the Mexican revolutionist and bounty hunter. The deep black hair, thick and shiny in the sunlight, those squinty dark eyes, and that tan complexion that… all of it slowly came together.

 _“They just turned twelve…”_ He can remember you saying, and that is all the indication he needed. The time period between the disbandment and now, the girl and boy standing alongside you no doubt his offspring.

His children that he had no clue existed.

John had helped you home that day, getting to know you along the way. Your home is not exactly something to be proud of, the old fixture rundown but still somewhat liveable. It does have a nice view of the sunset, he gives you that much credit. He can even remember the pictures you hang on your walls… The gang in their prime, group photos, and pictures of dear Hosea who everyone saw as the father they never had. Though there were far more photos of you, your children, and your lost lover. 

There was a picture of you and Javier after your first successful robbery together, the time of that picture was when you two were still just friends. His arm loosely around your waist as you hold your rifle, both of you a sweaty mess and holding up the well-earned cash the two of you worked for.

Another one had you with your arms around the man’s neck, leaning against his chest as he kisses your forehead. Mary-Beth had taken that one, John remembers it clearly because moments later Javier was wrestling Bill to the ground for puking on the back of your dress in his intoxicated state.

Several other pictures of his old friend holding you up in his arms bridal-style, grabbing you by your cheeks and kissing you like no one is watching, you two sitting on the dock at Clemens Point as he plays his guitar for you… the silhouette of your figures against the colorless sunset.

Your wedding photos, all three propped up carefully against the mantel of the fireplace. One was you two during the ceremony, hands clasped together as he slips a ring onto your finger, Miss Grimshaw being the one to wed you both. The second of the three was a group photo, Javier holding you up in his arms and kissing you as the entire gang surrounds you both… that one made him laugh because of the bewildered look on Arthur’s face who stood awkwardly behind you both. 

The last one was one capturing the memory of you both dancing, arms tangled around one another as Javier carries you into that smooth rhythm he was known for. It made all those locked emotions build up quickly, and John had to look away before he got too emotional. Knowing he had been tasked to kill the man you have spent over a decade loving, waiting for, and missing.

John felt like a monster, The Devil, hearing you talking about the birth of your children, the nights you spend crying and praying, the stories you tell your kids so they know their father never purposely left them… that he simply was lost. The more you told him, the more his heart twisted into undesirable positions. He felt awful leaving you there, keeping quiet about Javier, seeing you so hopelessly stand there and wave him off, clutching the ring around your finger.

But even after all that, even after regretting staying so long to catch up with you, for letting his heart pull him away from the task of killing his lost brother because of you… here he is, a picture of you in hand as he stands eye-to-eye with none other than his forgotten target. 

“Do you remember a woman… (H/C) colored hair, (E/C) eyes… the biggest heart either of us has ever seen?” At his words, he can see Javier’s defensive stance falter in the slightest, “She was a beautiful woman, too… everyone had their eyes out for her.” John clears his throat and looks down at the picture of you, one he snatched before leaving the house. Javier used to carry it in his pocket all the time, calling it his _good luck charm_ whenever he felt their heist or robbery may be going south.

Reluctantly he holds it out, extending the memory towards the man in front of him. The dusty, foreign figure, not exactly a sight for sore eyes after having been the most pampered back in the day. Mr. Escuella grasps it between his two fingers, hands shaking as if he just saw a ghost. His fingertips trace circles over your face, “I gave it to her the day you and Arthur ran off, told her to wait for me at Emerald Ranch. I promised to take her away from everything, but when I finally got there she was nowhere to be found.” His heart broke as he reminisced in the memory, “No one remembered seeing her, and I thought the worst. Those Pinkertons running around, they knew her face because of me.”

John stays silent as he stares down the man in front of him, it is like seeing a ghost. The dirtied and worn clothes are much in contrast to the Javier that John remembers, no longer so focused on looking his best, but now on the firm belief of surviving this reign of terror that has become his life. This was not the same Javier he remembers, and for that reason, he almost decides on forgetting the good deed he so wishes to do.

But then he sees the ring on his hand, still there after all these years. Unlike the rest of him, it has been kept clean, sparkling. Not a scratch on it. 

“That woman,” Javier says with a grin, holding up your photo in the light to better look at it, “She was my angel, never loved a woman like I loved her… like I _still_ love her. I’d give everything just to see her, even if for a split second.” Javier was not known for being so melancholic, so sentimental unless he had his guitar in hands, crying out songs both uplifting and heart wrenching. Though it is refreshing, seeing him in this state is like taking a dive into a clear lake… you both yearn for each other, both saying the exact same words to describe how much you miss one another.

A push of encouragement for John to finalize his decision.

“Let me take you to her,” John blurts out, “I… took that photo from her home, it’s about a day and a half rides North. She needs you, ain’t taken that ring off her hand yet, still got all those pictures of you and her, everyone.” The complete 180-degree turn that occurred on Javier’s face, his saddened and distant expression turning into one of pure hope, endearment, and adoration.

“I have no choice but to believe you, brother…” Javier laughs and looks between the picture of you in his hands and John in front of him, “You may be bringing me to my casket, but if there is even a slight chance of seeing her… I’d give it all.” The big grin on his face, it reinforced John that he made the right decision.

The two men leave undetected, and thus begins their trek to find you, to deliver you your lost lover. The ride was no doubt awkward, like being locked in a room with your mortal enemy except you both have to help each other - Well, that is basically what is happening, except they are not forced to help one another. John is doing it to correct his sins, in hopes that this will give him good karma. Reuniting you with your one and only, your soulmate.

The one night they camped alongside one another, the first time in over twelve years or so, they have slept peacefully amongst one another… it was not as silent or awkward as the ride. Rather nostalgic in a sense. John shared stories, Javier as well, John spoke about his situation and in turn, Javier offered him his prayers and condolences. 

A strange feeling set in, as if the ex-revolutionist in front of him is missing something. John discreetly scanned the man, trying to pinpoint what exactly does not look right.

“When I fled back to Mexico, I had no money. Micah and Dutch took every drop for themselves, Bill went his own route. I thought by staying, it meant that we would all try and fix the mess we made of the gang. I was a fool, wrong. So, I sold my guitar. It was nearly as painful as realizing I was not gonna see (Y/N) again.”

His guitar, that is what he was missing.

“She told me… she sometimes can still hear you singing to her, knows every song by heart I am pretty sure.” John smiled, poking at the fire in front of them, “I saw her when she was walking home, I… she has not changed, but other things have, Javier. I think you need to see it for yourself, though.” He could tell Javier he has two perfect children waiting for him, dreaming about their father and imagining the stories they hear from their mother. 

Javier lays back on his cot, “Change or no change, she is still my everything.”

That night was the most peaceful either of them has slept in a long time, and the following morning was all the better. Despite the lingering malice and hatred towards one another for their respective reasons, they began acting as if nothing changed. Along the way, they stopped to fish, just like in the old days, joking about Pearson’s cooking and poor Miss Grimshaw nagging for absolute perfection and order. Neither brought up Dutch or Bill, not even Micah. It was refreshing, remembering the past without the evil somehow creeping to corrupt said memories.

“I remember the first time I took her fishing,” Escuella says out of nowhere, “Something big grabbed at her bait, yanked her so hard she tipped over the edge of the boat. No fear can even compare to how I felt in that moment, I jumped over the edge quicker than I could even think of just what may be lurking in the water below us.” Then the eerie story took a turn when he let out a hearty, scratchy laugh, “Turns out she was just testing me, said she wanted to see if I was willing to do anything for her.” Now that sounded just like you, and both of them erupted into a symphony of laughter.

Stories were once again shot back and forth, reminiscing in the love they have for their families, for the gang that has since been left in the dust. Both having laughed so much their cheeks and ears were dusted in pink and their abdomens were spasming in pain, hunched over their steeds as they further approached your resting space.

Over the hill, they can see your home. John can make out the figure of your scrawny nag grazing in the fields surrounding your lonesome shelter, “Right there.” John points, and before he can even recover from the laughing, Javier kicks the side of his horse and he bolts for your house. John struggles on behind but manages to catch up.

He expects Javier to jump off the four-legged companion and burst through the door with a loud, _“I am here, my amor!”_

Though, Javier stops. Just a few yards away from your front door he stops dead in his tracks and gives a ghostly stare to your home. He swears he can see your figure in the window, moving back and forth, but when he blinks a few times you disappear. His excitement is messing with his conscience.

“I am not good enough for her,” Javier says, hand still grasping at the reigns, “What do I even say?” He more so speaks to himself, but John can overhear his doubting, “She is all I have wanted for these near thirteen years, and now I am doubting myself… I was lucky to call her mine, to marry her. She deserves a good man, good morals-”

“She needs you. She stares at your photos for minutes at a time, hell, she talks about you as if you are standing right beside her! If you leave her like that, then yeah, you ain’t good enough for her.”

Finally, he moves. Dismounting his horse, he pulls the sombrero from his head and holds it against his chest for a moment, reciting a quick prayer under his breath before so steadily trudging towards your front door. He wants to see your face and feel you in his arms, to whisper how much he loves you against the side of your head while stroking your hair and caressing the skin of your back.

Three knocks, that is all he can manage to do, three slow and steady knocks. His hands are coated in a thick layer of sweat, hands trembling as if he were about to meet _El Diablo._

But when you so wearily open the door, peeking through like a startled rabbit… his worries melt, and his heart punches against his ribcage, yelling out and reaching for you. For a moment, you look almost bewildered, as if you were met with the most marvelous sight. Your eyes widen to the point your forehead scrunches up slightly, and then the door whips open with such force that it crashes violently into the wall.

“I… me…” Your hands flex in and out of fists, “Your…” The tears that well up in your eyes break his heart, kill him like no man could in all these years of running, “Jav-” He silences you, grabbing you by the arms and pulling you outside and into his waiting arms. He smells of sweat and musk, he knows that, but you still latch onto him so tightly, inhaling the odor sticking to the side of his exposed neck… the feeling sends shivers down his spine.

All at once, you cry out. A type of cry - no, a sob - he has never heard from you before. You wail out as if you are in so much pain, it is tearing you in two. Your fingernails clawing at his back, your salty tears staining the collar of his shirt and your lips traveling across his exposed flesh. Your somewhat chapped lips make deep impressions against his neck, his jaw, his chin, his cheek, nose, eyelids… everywhere you can, saving his lips for last. All while you are sobbing in his arms, shakily inhaling and exhaling through your nose.

John stands idly in the distance, his hat over his heart as he thinks back to the time he reunited with Abigail and Jack after Arthur helped him flee. The scene makes his own heartache for his family, but it’s a reminder that he has done the right thing for once, and all out of the genuine kindness of his heart. He does not expect a speech of gratitude, or money… seeing you both latching onto each other like wild animals, it is the biggest reward anyone can offer.

As Javier is just basking in this love and affection… he sees two figures out of the corner of his eye and on instinct goes in defense mode. Not realizing they are only children, you are just as startled due to his sudden drawback until you peer over your shoulder to your two children, _his_ children.

You take Javier’s hand in yours with this smile, the moment you have been waiting for after nearly twelve years has finally come. You beckon the man forth and outstretch your other hand to signal the two pre-teens over. A boy and a girl, not a bad bone in either of their bodies. You raised them well, in hopes Javier would someday find you and teach them how to defend themselves like he had with you.

“I never had the chance to tell you, it was like God was telling me not to because the day I had the surprise ready… is the same day I lost you.” Unlike Javier, the two children recognized him from the photos, the stories. Although he looks so much different, they can still see the Javier, their father, that they have been told about time and time again, “I was pregnant, barely showing at the time. I had no idea, I was getting sick all the time and feeling out of the element, remember? We joked I was pregnant, and then it turned out I was.”

Sheepishly you rubbed the top of their heads, ruffling the hair of your son and daughter as they stare up at the man like he is a ghost, “The only thing I did not know… was that I was having twins.” You looked into Javier’s eyes, his silence making you worry that he never wanted kids, that he was not ready.

Then he brought his hands up to his face, furiously brushing away at his wet eyes and the hiccups that come from the rumbling, twitching of his chest. The man has to look away for a moment, inhaling a sharp breath. He hopes his pitiful state will go away, that he will be able to pull back in the tears and return to his intimidating figure. When he realizes these tears were not leaving anytime soon, he faces you again with this grin, “ _Ay, mi amor… mi mujer y mis hijos._ ” His voice cracks, hands reaching out to grasp at his family and pull them close. 

Javier takes in the sight of his children, kneeling down to observe their faces. He saw so much of himself in them both, but they still had your good looks, your beauty in the mix. His fingers comb through the hair of his son while he holds his daughter by the side of her face, looking at them with so much love. He softly cries, hating himself for not being there to help you give birth, to raise them… he hates himself.

The galloping of hooves is heard, and you all face the sound to see John riding off. A large bag left on the rear of Javier’s horse, one that was not there before. The older man calls over his steed, the old sack smelling of fish and he can already make sense of the gift. On the side is a note:

_Think of it as a house warming gift, MR. and MRS. ESCUELLA._

_\- John Marston._

Javier looks after the fading silhouette, holding the note so tightly in his hand that it crumples, “Thank you, _amigo_. For delivering me to _mi amor._ ”


End file.
